Just My Imagination
by DearLizzie
Summary: Maybe sometimes it's better to hope in vein than not to not hope at all. Angsty Oneshot from Gordo's POV.


Just My Imagination

_A/N: I know I haven't updated on my current story (Ride of lifetime year 1), for a long time, but at the moment, I just don't have any enthusiasm for the project. Anyway, this story I wrote on a whim. I came up with the idea while reading 'My Fair Lady' By BethanyKatherine, which is an LG story from years ago that I happened to start reading for no apparant reason. I saw the words "Just My Imagination" in her story, and I thought wouldn't it be cool to write a story?...weird, huh? Yeah I scare myself sometimes. Big shoutout to the following writers/reviewers, just because you rock, and you're some of my most regular reviewers(you reviewed my other stories constantly, giving me some inspiration...):-_

_Dario  
JP  
Ali Oldman  
GD Earnest  
sivchik101  
Angelstargirl  
green aura  
carnyman  
Saz-646  
Woemcat  
All my anonymous reviewers, because you all equally rock._

_I think thats all of them. Anyway, again, you all are the best. Now all you great people taking time out to read my story, enjoy!_

_By the way, this isn't really a happy story. It's from Gordo's POV though, so it's gotta be at least a little interesting._

* * *

God I hate that guy. Yeah, you! You...big...loser!...wow, great insult there, Gordo. You are the king of all insultland. You know, they should rename a country that. Insultland. Then I'd have somewhere to hang out when I happen to be in this place I am right now.

I could hear the faint sound of Mrs.Williams, my AP math teacher, spouting off some rubbish about the advanced forulae for something. Well, I'll be damned if I care. I had more important things on my mind. Things like brooding. That's right, brooding. With a little sulking thrown in there too. Lizzie McGuire and her weekly boyfriend had made no mistake in declaring to the class that they were an item. Well, yipee for them.

You see, this guy, Brett...erm...Brad-Broderick...(oh hell, it doesn't matter, they're all tall, well built, have either long flowing hair or short gelled hair) was dating Lizzie. And as much as I hated myself for feeling like I did, I couldn't stop being jealous, and my jealously, while not being acted upon, inevitably became annoyance.

Then dislike.

Then more annoyance.

Then some kind of limbo between dislike and annoyance.

Then it ends up where I am currently, brooding with sulking involved.

Why couldn't she see that all these guys she was dating were all just jocks. Jocks with just enough mental capacity to walk and talk at the same time. Yeah, they were good looking, and by some stretch of their mind, could woo Lizzie McGuire into spending a week of her precious time dating them before she dumped them and moved onto the next innocent victim. Yes, Lizzie McGuire was a maneater. No idea how it happened. Think it occured to me that it had happened somewhere around the time of her platinum album breaking a world record for number of CD's sold, or something.

After that little tenure, she was instantly the most popular girl in school, and slowly began the narrow, and very short path, to evil. Evil in the sense that she crushes my feelings every single day. I mean, a guy can't help whom he's in love with, can he?

She might not talk to me anymore, or even take a moment to look my way, but the feeling still rages, and despite my constant trying to shut it all away, that crap ain't moving. I don't know what it is about her. Maybe it's her skin that shines like Porcelain, or her shiny brown eyes that peirce my very soul whenever I gaze into them from afar. Probably has something to do with that, but who knows.

While distantly daydreaming about what it would be like to sleep with Lizzie, (hey I'm a guy), and trying to block out the constant distraction of my math teacher speaking, I heard the immediate sound of the bell. I quickly gathered my assorted books and tipped them all into my bag, and rushed to the door, beating everyone else to it. I walked through, running straight into an outstretched foot. Yeah, yeah, very funny someone thought it would be absolutely hilarious to trip me up. So, as you have probably guessed, I dazily fall forwards straight flat onto my face, books flying everywhere from the opened zip in my bag. I frown, as I look backwards to see some guy I don't know the name of, sniggering and laughing. Quickly joined by roughly all of my AP math class.

"You're such a dork, Gordon.", another guy says. Wow, join me as the co-founder of the kingdom of insultland, guy. That was nearly as witty as my earlier insult. The rest of the student body now decide to make this a group joke. Tripping someone over is not a joke. There's way worse stuff you can do, like kicking a man while he's down.

And would you believe it.

The rather large, witty guy decides to pull back and release some teenage pressure on my stomach. It hurts, but you know, it happens. Then the rest of his little gang joins in. It takes, maybe, ten minutes of kicking and punching to satisfy all of their individual teenage angst's, as they run off. I get up, wiping some blood off of my top lip. Oh well, I've had worse. I pick my ripped books up, and pile them yet again into my bag, this time taking the smart option by zipping it up, as I walk up the corridor. The bell for the end of school has rung, so I collect the rest of my things from my locker, which is easy because it's been broken into and people have left some nice messages in it telling me how they all love me. Or not, as the case maybe.

So, I get to walking home, as thoughts of Lizzie McGuire enter my head again. It'd be great if she would talk to me. Just the sound of her voice brightens my day.

In light of my usual routine, I quickly pick up the pace in order to maybe catch Lizzie walkng home. I pass her house, but she's already home, with Brett or Brad. Maybe both, who knows. I see them in her bedroom. God, what I'd give for that to be me. I'll talk to her tomorrow.

But don't think all my life is full of doom and gloom, I still have Miranda. Yeah, she too was a necessary casualty for Lizzie on the way to her billions of the American people's dollars. We sometimes talk. Mostly about what's happening in our lives, what we're getting up to, you know, that sort of thing. She's got a boyfriend, I hear he's nice. We don't speak often as I'd like though, she lives in Mexico.

I reach home, and the phone starts to ring with excitement.

"Hello? Gordon residence." I say. Oh, I'm such a goofball.

"Hey Dave!" The voice of Miranda answers.

"Afternoon, Rand."

"So, how's it going?" She asks hopefully.

"It's going great!, school is good as always. I hung out with all my friends and such. Math was it's usual fun self." I was a good liar when I wanted to be.

"Thats awesome!, what about Lizzie?, how is she?" She quickly asks. Women are like that. Even though Miranda knows Lizzie doesn't even know she exists anymore, Miranda's best friend insticts always kick in.

"I wouldn't know." I say.

"Oh, right, yeah. I keep forgetting..."

"If it's of any use to you, Rand, she hasn't got any major deseases, she is still selling records, and I'm still madly, deeply, painfully, in love with her." I've said that so many times, it just seems to roll off the tongue.

"Well, the health part is good. And with the in love part, you keep trying, Dave. She'll come round soon enough. I mean, you _are_ the captain of the basketball team, and she's the head cheerleader, so it's meant to be, rules of high school life, you know."

Okay, I'm an excellent liar. As much as I hate myself to do it to Miranda, who's stuck with me all the way thought these last four years since graduating middle school.

"I'll keep trying. She's just busy with her singing and stuff." I manage to let out, cursing myself for not telling the truth.

"Anyway, hows life in Mexico treating you?" I ask, changing the subject. And from that point on, we chat for maybe three, four, maybe five hours about her life and my life here in Hillridge.

After I say goodbye, I quickly grab a snack, complete the mountain of homework I've got, step into the shower, nursing the cuts and bruises from today's daily conflicts, change again, and head to bed.

The next morning, as I step through the school doors, I sigh happily, as I realise I have AP English first period. Lizzie is in that class. I rush to my locker, which has been furtherly destroyed, this time with remarks about my religion. That's a new low, but nothing can get me down, I am about to have an hours time to gleefully stare to the perfect form that is Lizzie McGuire. I run into the class, and sit down on my seat, only to fall downwards onto the floor and slip backwards, hitting my head on the desk behind me. The class have their laughs, as the same guy, who I still don't know, removes his hand from my chair, that he has seemingly pulled backwards so I miss my destination.

I turn around to see everyone laughing, including Lizzie McGuire. I look at her, the only person that I care about. I connect eye's with her, and suddenly she stops laughing, and swiftly hits the guy who pulled back my chair on the back of the head. He stops laughing, but outstretches his hand and squeezes her ass. She glares at him and sits back down. I smile the widest smile I can, full of new hope and even more love than before for the goddess sitting across the classroom from me.

Finally I know she loves me too. Somewhere inside her. I try to connect eye's with her again for the next fifty minutes or so, but she is busy talking with some of her friends. I can look away to write some class notes down. I look back up, and I could have sworn she looked at me again. She does love me!

The feeling of fulfillment rejuvinates me. Like a breath of fresh air after being in a dusty room for weeks.

I try to catch her eye in return, but she's not looking again. But I know she looked at me just before. The bell rings again for the end of the period, and everyone gets up. I make it to the door first again. This time, I walk into another guy. I should really have started to wisen up on these things by now. I mean it's been four years. He and his friends take me outside school grounds and rough me up real good, with bats this time.

But really, all that matters is that maybe, just maybe Lizzie McGuire cares about me, in her heart of hearts she still does. After all these years. I really could have sworn she looked at me back there in that classroom.

But, maybe...it was all just my imagination.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I know. Not LG fluff like you're used to off of me. I thought I would experiment into exetreme teenage angst, and what happens to someone when they get a little lost in their lives. Please R and R, for old times sake. Tell me what you thought. :) Anyway, a last comment. I might update soon on my other story, if I get my inspiration to write it back. I probably will sometime._

_Thanks,_

_DearLizzie_


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